


soon we'll be found

by pendules



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Bisexuality, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Reconciliation, Sexual Identity, Sleeping Together, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 21:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11449746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendules/pseuds/pendules
Summary: Five times they sleep together.





	soon we'll be found

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something about Dean kissing Seth's tattoos (because: hot), and also something about them tagging together at house shows (because: feelings), and also something about them sleeping in the same bed (because: _bed-sharing_ ), and it kind of all merged into one, because: why the hell not. This is probably a Huge Mess, so apologies for that.

1.

It should be weird, tagging together after all this time, but it's all too easy. It's like speaking a language you haven't spoken in years but the words all flow freely from your lips without having to think about them. It's instinct. It's muscle memory. He knows where Seth is going to be before he's there; he knows what he's thinking about doing before he does it. He missed this. He missed having someone who could practically read his own mind. There was a time when he thought that maybe Seth could be the one person who could really _get_ him, if he wanted to. It only made what eventually happened all the more painful. 

They're in Springfield and it's been an exhausting couple of days, but Dean stops him for the first time when they're heading back to the locker room to shower and change.

"Wanna go back to the hotel and watch the PPV?"

Seth just narrows his eyes at him for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, okay, I'll meet you there."

"Cool."

Any other night, he would've just gone back to his room and passed out, but there's something about Money in the Bank. It's different, it's special. He's felt both the lowest of lows and the highest of highs there, and of course, Seth was a part of all of those moments. He knows that Seth feels the same way about their fraught connection to the event. He knows that there's no ignoring it tonight, but you can't bury the past. That's not what this is about. This is about acknowledging everything that's come before in an effort to move on. Hopefully.

*

Baron grabs the case, because of course he does, and Dean just lets out an _Ugh_ , loud and characteristically eloquent, before pausing the stream. 

Seth laughs, which turns into a huge yawn. "I'm exhausted, man, I should go."

"You can stay, if you want," Dean offers, apparently without even thinking about it.

"You sure?" 

"Yeah, bed's big enough. It's no problem."

"Okay." It's more to do with the fact that he's not entirely sure he can get _off_ of the bed and stand on his own two feet at this exact moment than the prospect of spending a night with Dean Ambrose for the first time in more than three years.

Dean cuts the lights, turns the TV off, gets under the covers. He's wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants, thank God. Seth knows that Dean usually opts for little to no sleepwear even when he's not alone, because he doesn't give a fuck, so he's grateful for that at least.

Seth crawls under the covers on the other side, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible.

But Dean turns on his side, facing him, and it's impossible to ignore him. Even if he couldn't practically feel his warmth radiating through the mattress, even if he couldn't smell him on the sheets and pillows.

"I didn't sleep for weeks after, you know," Seth tells him quietly. He hopes the darkness can hide some of his shame. 

Even after they started getting separate rooms, Seth ended up in Dean's room three nights out of five. Sometimes they would both end up passing out on the floor of Roman's room. Old habits die hard, he supposes.

"I didn't either," Dean admits. "I think I spent most of those nights in bars, starting fights and getting thrown out on my ass on the pavement. Or breaking bottles in hotel rooms. I almost ran my car into a ravine one time."

Seth inhales sharply. "Not Shelly."

"Roman found me sitting on the side of a road at 2am. Told me it wasn't my fault. Told me I had to destroy you if that's what it would take to not destroy myself."

"Do you still want that?" he asks hesitantly.

"Nah. I think I really just wanted you — wanted you _there_. I think I just fucking _missed_ you more than anything."

Seth feels something twist tightly in his chest. He's never going to deserve Dean Ambrose, he doesn't think, not as long as he lives.

"I missed you too," he says gently. But Dean doesn't reply this time. He's probably nodded off.

Seth closes his eyes and settles in, lulled to sleep by the rhythm of Dean's soft, steady breathing. Real and alive and so close to him, for the first time in forever.

 

2.

It becomes a habit. Sometimes they have a beer or two, eat some junk food they probably shouldn't be consuming, watch whatever's on the TV or Netflix or find some random PPV from the 90s on the Network. They always end up falling asleep, and Seth always leaves before dawn, careful not to wake him up.

Dean puts on some obscure ECW show from back in the day one night and laughs and comments on it like it was yesterday, like he's watched it a million times, or like it's been buried inside his bones. The carnage and the beauty and the history of all of it, every match he ever watched as a kid, every match he's ever been in, every violent spot and every subtle betrayal of emotion. All of it coalescing into something more. All of it making Dean Ambrose who he is now.

Seth lives for wrestling, he eats, breathes, sleeps it, has worked himself down to the bone for thirteen years to be the best, has given everything up for it, but Dean — Dean _is_ wrestling, embodied. Wrestling now and wrestling then and wrestling forever. It's built into his DNA. It occupies a sizeable portion of his brain processes at all times. And of his heart. It saved his life, he'd said once. And Seth never doubted it. There are three things that Dean truly loves in this world — wrestling, his car, and Roman. 

And Seth, once, a long time ago. 

Seth falls asleep while Dean's still engrossed in the chaos on screen, eyes almost glazed over, and it almost makes him feel like the kid he once was, a dream in his heart, stars in his eyes. When things were simple and pure and wrestling was just about love. Not even being able to imagine the money and politics and scheming and backstabbing that went along with the business. He remembers the look on Dean's face when he'd pulled that briefcase down, finally, and he thinks maybe it could still be like that now.

*

Dean wakes up before him for the first time.

When Seth's eyelids eventually flutter open, he mumbles, "What time is it?"

"Relax, man, I got breakfast. We can chill."

" _Chill_?" Seth asks, skeptically.

Dean passes him a donut as Seth sits up. Seth wrinkles his nose at it before taking a tiny bite.

"It's not gonna hurt you, man."

Seth raises his eyebrows. "I think diabetes, heart disease and the rate of obesity in this country would like to argue otherwise."

"It's _one_ donut, man. You don't say no to pizza at midnight."

"That's different. Junk food and alcohol just go together. This is not _breakfast_."

"Well, fine, I'll get you a kale smoothie next time," Dean says defensively.

"Next time?" Seth echoes.

"Yeah," Dean says casually.

"So, is this, like, really a _thing_ now?"

"I don't know," Dean says truthfully. "Do you want it to be?"

Seth seems to think on that for a minute. "I like hanging out with you," he affirms. "I just don't want it to be weird."

"Why would it be weird?" Dean asks sardonically.

Seth shoves his shoulder. "Don't be a dick."

"Don't call me a dick."

"What are you going to do about it, huh?" Seth asks, grinning.

"I could always just call this whole _thing_ off," he deadpans.

"Aww, shucks. And we had such a good _thing_ going."

"Don't mess it up then."

Seth takes a proper bite of his jelly donut.

"I won't," he says, and he looks like he means it completely.

 

3.

After Raw, Dean's moments away from passing out, his head still throbbing like a motherfucker, when his phone buzzes.

They haven't really seen each other in a while. Seth's been busy with his video game shenanigans, he guesses. Dean's been busy trying not to think about _Seth_ and their _thing_ and how much he wants to grab him by his stupid man-bun and kiss the fucking shit out of him.

 _i can't sleep_ is all the text says.

He sends back, like the truly delirious person he is right now, _i have booze. and painkillers. but it's hard to move right now_

Seth knocks on his door in his pajamas, hair messed-up, eyes red-rimmed and a band-aid covering the three stitches in his cheek.

 _Fight Club_ 's on some random channel and they're both drifting in and out of sleep which only adds to the surreality of what's on the screen. Seth gets really close to him, closer than he's ever been, and he rests his undamaged cheek on Dean's shoulder, almost unconsciously. His hair brushes Dean's chin and Dean slowly wraps an arm around his waist, keeping him in place.

They fall asleep like that, curled together, and if Dean has to extricate himself from Seth's warm, prone body and take care of himself in the shower before he wakes up, then no one else has to know.

 

4\. 

When they step backstage in Singapore, Dean locks eyes with him for a second, still breathing hard, and he looks like he wants to say something, looks like it's painful not to. But he just pats the side of Seth's head and heads to the showers.

Later, he's alone in the locker room after getting changed, and then suddenly Dean's there. Really, really close. And it's like every nerve ending in his body is on high alert.

Seth brushes his hair back, turns to look at him.

"That felt so good," Dean says, all in a rush. His pupils are blown all the way wide from adrenaline.

"I know."

"It felt good," he continues breathlessly. "Doing that. With you. Here. I didn't want it to stop."

"Me too."

Dean presses him back against the lockers behind them and kisses him, once, twice, clumsy but enthusiastic. Dean's hands are at the sides of his waist, bracketing him in, and he just stays there, his body warm and consuming all his senses, their noses brushing, their breaths mingling. Seth's eyes are still closed, but he reaches up to run his fingers into Dean's soft, still-damp hair and press their foreheads together. He doesn't want _this_ moment to stop either. He's about to say something to that effect when Dean just murmurs against his mouth, "We should get out of here."

"Fuck yeah."

*

They just kiss on Dean's bed for the longest time until they have to come up for air. Seth just lets out the tiniest sigh before flopping back against the pillows and staring up at the ceiling, probably with the dopiest smile on his face.

Dean's still just observing him, though, curiously, maybe even a bit warily.

"You, uh, you ever done that before?" he asks, obviously trying to keep his tone even.

Seth looks over at him, eyebrows knitting together, wondering where his head's at. "What, had the living daylights kissed out of me? Not like _that_ , at least."

Dean rolls his eyes. "I _meant_ ," he says more deliberately. "Hooked up with a guy."

"Oh," Seth says, slightly startled. He definitely didn't think they'd be having _this_ exact conversation right now. " _That_."

"Yeah, _that_." Dean seems almost amused now, but Seth's always figured he's taken a special kind of pleasure in catching Seth completely off-guard. He guesses that nothing's really changed.

Seth shrugs, considering his answer. "Not in a while, no. But back in high school, there were a couple guys. It wasn't a big deal or anything."

"So, it wasn't, like, serious?"

"No, we just fooled around, really. Never went all the way with any of them. It was always casual." He pauses for a moment, bites his lip before continuing. "I think it's pretty much been casual with everyone I've been with, guy or girl. I never really found anyone I wanted to, you know…get serious with."

Dean just nods, almost solemnly. It's like he knows this is something Seth's never really talked about with anyone else before. 

Seth lets out a breath before asking, "What about you?"

He figures that for Dean, the real conflict lies not with hooking up with guys, but hooking up with _Seth_ in particular.

"I don't know, man. It's all the same to me. Maybe I did make out with a dude once or twice back in the day. But I probably was too drunk to remember."

They've never talked much about relationships before, but Seth _knows_ Dean. Seth knows that Dean actually doesn't do _casual_ well at all. He gets too attached to people. He cares too much. Maybe to his own detriment a lot of the time. He's pretty sure that Dean's only ever had actual feelings for a handful of people in his life. 

Seth knows what Dean's really asking, if this is real to him, if he wants this to be something more. Making sure that it's not just a bit of fun and recklessness brought on by too much blood pumping through their veins and all the pure fervour and exhilaration saturating the air in Singapore tonight. 

"It's all the same to me too," Seth promises.

This _isn't_ , though, this isn't like anything he's ever had or wanted. Dean's not simple in the slightest — he's complicated and difficult and messy and overwhelming — but he's probably the realest thing Seth's ever known.

 

5.

They go out for drinks with Roman and a bunch of other people after the first night in Japan.

Japan's special and amazing and weird just the way he likes it. He feels like he can just go down a random alley and end up in a new world, become someone else. Get lost forever. Give up the person he was and start afresh.

Dean drags Seth out of the bar and back to the hotel and it feels just like that — like getting lost, like creating a different world, just for them. No one else exists. The past blurs behind them; the future's a blank slate.

Dean kisses the nape of his neck afterwards, runs his fingers along his spine, making him shiver.

"Tell me about your tattoos," he says, voice rough.

"What? I thought you _hated_ them. You said they were, and I quote, 'pretentious as all fuck'."

"Well, that doesn't mean they're not also fucking sexy," Dean says, like that's the most logical thing in the world.

"Seriously? You're not fucking with me?" he asks skeptically. "You never wanted to know about them before."

"Well, I think after sucking your dick just now, some things might have changed."

Seth's sure he goes pretty pink at that and he lets out an incredulous laugh and shakes his head before saying, "Okay, fine."

Dean goes all quiet and serious like he's an attentive student. Seth's pretty sure Dean's never been a good student in his life, though.

"Well, the first one —" Dean puts his finger to it. "Yeah, that one. It means integrity. It's all about believing in justice and owning up to your mistakes. No bullshit, basically."

"Is that what it really says? 'No bullshit'?"

"Basically, yeah."

"So, what about this one?" Dean gets closer to it; he can feel his breath on his skin.

"That one's about respecting your opponent." He thinks about the wars he's had with Dean, those times when it was as close as a razor's edge between them. How they made each other better. The way he wanted to hate him so much — because he couldn't risk it, couldn't risk jeopardising his success by caring too much about anyone else — but he couldn't help but admire him. Admire his heart and his will and his soul, when Seth's was all burned up to ash and decay. Hollow and black.

"And this?" Dean puts his lips to the third symbol, making him gasp. 

"That one's bravery. Basically doing stupid, reckless shit for the greater good." Like fighting Triple H on one leg, risking permanent injury, risking the end of his career, for instance.

"Sounds like my kind of code," Dean says appreciatively.

Seth smirks.

"And this?" he says, reverently touching the fourth symbol.

"That one stands for honour. And always being true to yourself. I think that one's the hardest," Seth confesses. "For me."

"At least you're _trying_ to not be a lying scumbag anymore."

"It's still hard, to figure it out. Who I'm supposed to be now."

"There's no one right answer to that," Dean says, sounding wise beyond his years, not even an unexpected trait anymore.

Seth nods. Dean moves his hand to the next marking.

"Compassion," Seth tells him. "I used to think it was weakness. But I wouldn't be here without it." Seth reaches around until he can intertwine his hand with Dean's.

Dean trails his fingers down to the second-to-last symbol. "This one?"

"Honesty. Not just of word but of deed."

Seth turns around then, to press a kiss to Dean's mouth. He hope it means everything that he can't find the words for: _I'm sorry, I love you, I'm so happy I'm here with you._

"The last one always makes me think of you, actually," he says against his lips.

"Yeah?" Dean looks surprised.

"It's about duty and loyalty. And family. Being fiercely true to the people you care about. An unbreakable bond."

Seth holds his gaze and tightens his grip on Dean's hand and Dean doesn't let go.

Seth falls asleep with Dean's mouth pressed against his shoulder and his thumb gently brushing over the last inked symbol. He's never had a more content night's sleep.


End file.
